


Sleepdrawing

by Sparcina



Series: Drawn Together (Stony variations) [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Tony, But Tony is too, Dirty Talk, Embarrassment, Explicit drawings, Jarvis has a plan, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Steve, Oral Sex, Shy Steve, Steve is so fucked, Top Steve, Wanton Tony, meddling ai, self fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 03:29:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8270902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparcina/pseuds/Sparcina
Summary: Steve was sleepdrawing.More to the point, he tended to sketch Tony and himself in the throes of passion whenever he slept. Sure that his dirty little secret would destroy their friendship, he got rid of the proof... Little did he know, however, that Jarvis collected every single piece of evidence.





	

Most people woke up, drank their coffee and went to work. Steve, not being most people, woke up embarrassed, stared flushing at his mouth on Tony’s dick, or Tony’s mouth on his dick, or whatever other variation on the theme, then threw away another sketch he had done in his sleep.

He was at war with his subconscious. To him, the drawings were a source of excitation, all the more reason, he thought, to feel shame. Tony was his friend; he would probably be disgusted if he found out how pervert their virginal Captain really was.

Since mostly everything in the Avengers Tower was automated, he had to rely on Jarvis to get rid of his ‘accidents’. The AI had assured him time and time again that his secret was in capable hands, but the man still insisted on tearing apart every single depiction of sexual activity in charcoal lines. One could never be so sure.

*

The first time it happened, he had been living with the others for barely a month. Steve had learnt to let Tony away with some of his banter, and Tony had learnt to give Steve a break with all the teasing. After all, one didn’t wake up after seventy years knowing every nook and cranny of the world. Steve was only beginning to immerse himself in what was called ‘the Internet’, didn’t get a heart attack anymore when Clint dropped from the ceiling with a grin as tight as his bowstring–albeit that didn’t have anything to do with the time in which one lived–and could speak to Jarvis without feeling crazy.

He had even heard that homosexuality was accepted in America. He could hardly believe it at first, but when Natasha had shown him newspaper articles of gay couples getting married, publicly of all things, he had gone a little weak in the knees.

Natasha was the only one in this era to know that Steve was gay. But even she didn’t know that the man Steve fantasized about was the very man he could never hope to woo.

*

He had realized the depth of his infatuation the morning after a battle that had left New York devastated. Surprised, he had starred at his charcoal-stained fingers. He couldn’t remember drawing the night before; in the battered state he had been, a more than six-foot-tall articulated bruise, he had sunk into his bed fully clothed and fallen dead asleep.

His fingers told another story. Still drowsy a few hours later, Steve had paddled to the wooden desk near the window of his well lit room and stared hard at the picture awaiting him.

Two men. The lines were clear enough for Steve to recognize himself, crouching, his shield on his back, and another Avenger sitting down, chin tilted upwards. The charcoal Steve had that chin in his hand. As for his other hand, it was really, really busy stro…

Steve had closed the book shut, heart pounding madly.

*

It kept happening, many times a week. Steve had lost count of the different ways the two bodies were depicted. Yes, bodies–he lived better believing the two protagonists were strangers. He was quite good at self-deception, if he got it into his mind to ignore the evidence. After all, he could almost convince himself that Tony Stark wasn’t even remotely handsome, or that some very special smile of his didn’t render him speechless, or that his cock didn’t twitch in interest whenever Iron Man touched him longer than strictly appropriate. Not that it meant anything, of course: Tony flirted like he breathed.

But they were glitches in Steve’s method. Moments where he became pray to his appetites–dark appetites, he kept reminding himself–and couldn’t help but imagine vividly and colorfully the scenes his subconscious mind weaved on paper.

Shame still coursed in his veins at the memory.

*

One week ago, he had woken up with a painful hard-on. The reason for it had stood proudly on the thin sheet of paper centered on his desk.

Charcoal Tony was bent over a desk–the very desk under the sketch. He was fully erect, and his face was torn in sublime agony, his hands knuckle-white at his sides, his lips open on a silent moan. His eyes were shut. Steve had to do the same at the sight.

He had had time to see the rest, though. A charcoal Steve kneeling behind Tony, his hands firm on the hips of the smaller man, and his face… That Steve was, very eagerly, penetrating Tony with his tongue, fucking him into the desk with both his mouth and the sheer dirtiness of the act.

Steve had orgasmed then, white cum spreading on the proof of his deviance. Charcoal Tony’s face was covered in sperm, much like that other drawing showing him spread-eagled on the floor of the living room, Steve using his cheeks and chin as a canvas.

*

That had to stop.

“Jarvis, would you please collect those… drawings as soon as they are done and dispose of them in the usual fashion?”

“Of course, Captain,” the IA replied instantly. “If you feel well enough, the other are in the kitchen enjoying a hearty breakfast. You might want to try Bruce’s pancakes, with that alien syrup Thor had brought back from Asgard.”

Steve headed for the communal kitchen, although the notion of ‘syrup’ disquieted him. In the bustling company of Natasha, Bruce and Clint, he did his best to forget the impure dreams plaguing him. He mostly succeeded, helped in his endeavor by a very tasty cup of coffee, keeping most of his cool as Tony joined them, still sleepy with sheer cuteness, and stole Steve’s cup for ‘a taste’.

They went sparring after that. Steve carefully avoided facing Tony, and everything went well.

For a short while.

*

As was Tony’s habit, he had yet to come out of his lab to eat or sleep after more than twelve hours straight of tinkering. Being the good friend that he was, Steve had volunteered to go drag the man from the arms of temptation–i.e. technology–with the promise of good Chinese food. He had even looked up a couple of recipes that he felt confident doing without setting the modern kitchen on fire.

Jarvis let him in on the first knock.

“Hey, Tony.”

The engineer sent him a manic grin, elbows deep in what looked suspiciously like a missile head, and went back staring at his main computer’s screen. Stark Industries didn’t do weapons anymore, so it had to be one of those ahead-of-their-time, state-of-the-art inventions that would revolutionize another market. Steve returned his smile, a little shy. That would go away too, in time. He hoped.

“You should come up and eat,” he said gently. “What about Chinese?”

“Too busy,” Tony replied.

Steve could have predicted that. “You look like you will fall over. Please?”

“You know, Cap’, this is not all about…”

Tony stopping mid-sentence usually meant a stroke of genius. Intrigued, Steve crossed the room and leaned over his shoulder, careful to maintain a polite distance. The folders’ names on the desktop were mostly gibberish.

“What is it, Tony?”

The engineer didn’t seem to mind Steve’s proximity. He was so engrossed in a new mystery that he probably wouldn’t have noticed if an earthquake had shaken the tower. Steve felt equally relieved and guilty at invading the man’s space unobstructed.

“I didn’t make this file,” Tony mumbled, pulling on his goatee. “Jarvis, when was this created?”

The IA responded promptly. “Twenty-nine days, three hours ago.”

“Why in hell did you let me name one of my projects ‘urgent’?” Tony complained, in the whining tone that should have annoyed Steve but only endeared the inventor to him. “All my projects are urgent.”

“This one is different.”

“Of all the bloody titles…” Tony trailed on again, and Steve felt a shiver run down his spine. Apprehension wrapped its fist around his ribcage, shrinking his ribcage. He swayed on his feet. He couldn’t have said how he knew what the file contained, but he knew it, as surely as he could tell his right hand from his left. He wasn’t immediately angry at Jarvis, nor did he question _why_ the IA would have transgressed so his wishes.

He was more preoccupied by Tony grabbing the mouse and going straight for the kill.

If shame hadn’t killed anybody up till now, it would start with Steve in the Lab.

“Don’t.”

He put a hand on Tony’s shoulder before he could think of an excuse. The engineer startled.

“What do you mean, _don’t_? If it’s urgent,” he said in a tone that made it clear how aggravating he considered the title, “I better check it up. Pepper had drilled me on that one for years, Cap… What is wrong with you?”

Steve must have blanched. He tried to smile, but it must not be very convincing, because Tony’s eyebrows rose quite a bit.

“Do you know what’s in that file, Steve?”

Steve let go of the man’s shoulder as if it had burnt him. Tony didn’t project curiosity anymore; the emotion sketched on his features was closer to I-will-know-what-is-going-on-even-if-I-shall-die-from-it.

“I… I… I don’t have any idea what this is about,” Steve babbled, going from white to red in record time. Every second that went by reminded him of one other drawing he had done, of the torrid mix of shame and arousal that imprisoned him. He was in that very state right now and couldn’t think of any other option than knocking Tony unconscious and deleting the file itself.

“You are hiding something from me,” Tony said, eyes sparkling. “And I will know it.”

He tried to click on the file. Steve, however, had speed for him and snatched the mouse from him before the deed was accomplished.

“This is getting ridiculous. Let me work.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Jarvis, open the file.”

“Of course, Sir.”

Steve acted like any well-trained soldier would in face of sure danger; he got all offensive, deus-ex-machina style. In one fluid movement, he tackled Tony to the ground, spinning their bodies at the last moment to cushion the other man’s fall. One blink to the computer’s screen told him that the file was indeed open, cautioning his very own end of the world. Steve couldn’t breathe properly.

“Steve! Let me go!”

Steve steeled himself and got from under Tony’s body, grabbing the other’s man shoulders and dragging him away from the computer. He would figure the next step on a moment’s notice. All that he knew was that he couldn’t let Tony within one light-year of those drawings. That would wreck their friendship more surely than fighting him to the ground.

He felt a fist connect with his jaw. He shook his head, blinked to the furious face of the engineer, and let go of one shoulder. Tony tried to stand up, but Steve was hovering over him, blocking all issues.

“What _is_ it?” When Steve didn’t answer, Tony spoke some more. “You tell me right now why I can’t see my own files or I swear I’ll…”

“Just stay right here, please. I’m so sorry, Tony, but this…”

Tony blinked once, twice. “So if I let you delete that file, you will let me go back to work?”

“Of course,” Steve replied. “With my sincerest apologies, and the promise to cook an amazing Chinese meal tonight.”

“Ok.”

“Ok?” Steve looked suspicious, but he had the upper hand here, or so he thought. He took a step back, staring hard at an unmoving Tony. The engineer looked way too sure of himself for his sanity of mind. “Don’t stand, please.”

“I don’t plan to.”

Steve retreated back to the computer and set on to delete the file. What he saw on the screen made him pause; Jarvis had already gotten rid of it.

“There is no file left?” he exclaimed, incredibly relieved.

“It is no longer on the computer,” the AI assured him.

Something in the tone of Jarvis made him suspicious. He turned back to Tony at the very instant the other man let out a heartfelt: “Fuck, Steve.”

Tony had mentioned something about sharing digital information between linked devices a few days after his arrival in the Avengers Tower. Steve hadn’t quite gotten the hang of it at that time. No, it had to be right now, at the worst possible time, that he connected the dots.

What drawing was Tony perusing? Steve knew all of them by heart.

Was it the one where the engineer was wearing the Suit, except for a small surface between his legs, an open door to his arousal that Steve was eagerly swallowing? The drawing had been static, of course, but Steve had imagined for the briefest moment his head bobbing up and down that length, taking in as much as he could, gagging at the intrusion and guiltily enjoying it. Or maybe it was that other sketch, where Steve was kept face down on the floor, Tony straddling him backward, one hand guiding his erection between Steve’s ass cheeks, the other keeping his lover in place, ready for the taking? It may also be that one ludicrously arousing of Tony with his back arched, feet at the edge of the world, hands gripping Steve’s shoulders as the other man fondled his soft, hairless, balls…

“How many of these are there?”

Tony sounded breathless. It was probably from the fight earlier. Probably.

“Twenty-two, Sir.”

Steve couldn’t help himself. “I asked you to destroy them!”

“Mr. Stark asked me to watch the other Avengers in case they needed his help.”

All blood drained from Steve’s face. Hadn’t Natasha said they didn’t try to ‘treat’ homosexuality like in the 60’s? Tony’s expression was hard and deadly-serious as he locked eyes with him. Steve wished he was still buried in ice. It wouldn’t hurt so much, then.

“I’m so sorry.”

He felt like crying. Tony rose and closed the distance between them. Steve tried to fight the hand cupping his chin, but he was and always would be the servant of this fabulous man.

“Whatever for, Steve? Ah…” With his trademark self-sufficient grin, Tony brushed a thumb against his cheek. Steve couldn’t help but cling to hope. Maybe their friendship wasn’t over. Maybe Tony would only ask him politely to leave the Tower. Maybe…

“You think it is wrong. Fuck… I would be the last one to throw the stone, Steve, since I like women and men alike, and you the most.”

Steve’s face twisted into an interrogation mark. Tony chuckled in delight.

“I knew you were talented, handsome, but that… need. I get hard only from watching your drawings, Steve.”

That was the most arousing thing he had heard in all his life. Confidence surged back in his heart. Could he be so bold, could he…?

“If all that you’ve just said is in jest…”

“It isn’t.” Tony licked his lips. “I really, really want to do _bad_ things with you.”

Steve swallowed. His thought process came to a standstill as he took in the bulge in Tony's pants. “Can I ask... May I...” He was already bending the knee. 

Tony's eyes flashed. Exotic. Erotic.

“Permission is seriously overrated.”

*

The hard length assaulted his taste buds, claiming them for future glory. Steve marveled at the texture in his mouth, dissecting it ravenous, sweet, sour, a pang of bitterness he wanted to call coffee, darting his tongue to take quick licks before it faded, dragging his lips to the base of the shaft, his cornucopia, discovering gleefully what made man such an exquisite meal.

Yes. He could imagine himself handling Tony Stark in that very fashion every single day of the week. The moans he got for his efforts, the way that greasy, strong, beautiful hand tried to pull and push, naked hesitation, a sublime deed for a genius like his lover.

 _Lover_.

He made noises of his own, singing his rapture.

“Oh, god _,_ Steve, don’t stop…”

Steve’s own cock twitched.

“So needy, Steve,” Tony moaned, hips thrusting forward. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to put your mouth to good use. Have you seen how I stared at your lips? You were too naïve to… _fuck_!”

Steve was naïve only up to that very specific point where he suddenly wasn’t. He sucked harder and harsher, making sure Tony stopped thinking about everything except his mouth on his cock, because that was the very thing he had been unable to get out of his mind for the last month. His gag reflex battled against his passion. Steve’s eyes rolled upwards as the need to retch became overwhelming. Saliva was covering his chin, tears were streaming down his cheeks, and Tony… The man was sagging against the wall, moaning obscenities like a whore, and Steve had to stop thinking in those terms, he might not be in the 40’s anymore, but he would come in his pants like an amateur if he kept…

Tony tensed against him. His cock was shoved to the hilt in Steve’s mouth, engulfed by inimitable warmth. Steve readied himself for the burst of sperm, welcoming it.

“Not like that,” Tony let out, pupils blown dark. “Let me feel you inside me. Come on…”

Regretfully, Steve freed Tony and stumbled back on his feet. His own length tented his trousers. Tony bent over the closest desk and knocked everything–every single piece of pricy technology–to the dirty floor. Steve didn’t argue: what was yet to come was priceless.

“Steve, Steve…”

Tony shoved down his pants the rest of the way and kicked them away. His briefs followed suit. Steve licked his lips in anticipation as he recalled that particular drawing. Tony fingering himself, opening himself for him. Steve knew he was big–the serum had improved everything. Tony must know too, yes, he knew: his eyes had dipped to the bulge in Steve’s pants even as he raised a knee to better reach his pucker, adding a second finger, then a third, fucking himself relentlessly as Steve focused on his every move, transfixed by desire. In, out, in, out, shiny, shiny fingers... The wet noises were making him dizzy.

“I’m ready, fuck, I don’t even care…” Tony lay back on the desk and pulled his legs towards him, exposing himself thoroughly. Steve blinked once. That particular sight, he hadn’t experienced yet in charcoal, but how could he possibly mind when he had everything in colors, audio, smell? He got rid of his own pants and positioned himself between Tony’s cheeks, kneading soft cheeks with enough force to bruise. Tony encouraged him. Tony thrust towards him, cock leaking against his chest. 

His own cock looked way too big for that shiny, wonderful hole he yearned for. As a soldier, he had always been good in math. They wouldn't fit. They wouldn't.

He forced his hips to still. God, he wanted this. 

“Come on.” Tony tilted his hips upwards. His cheeks were bright red from arousal, and maybe a hint of unexpected shyness.  “Size, really. That is the least of my priorities right now.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Steve croaked. 

“Jarvis can get me a dildo as big as that faster than you can blink, so get going before I change my mind," Tony cut him. "I want you inside me yesterday, come on, breach me, fuck me… Yes, yes!”

The center of Steve’s universe had just relocated between his legs, in that tiny, tiny hole he was currently stretching open so very, very slowly. He sank his nails in Tony’s ass and bit down his lip, holding, holding, but Tony wouldn’t listen to reason; the man kept trying to hurt himself, cried ‘deeper, Steve, faster!’. It was a command Steve had to obey because his whole universe had been reduced to that voice pleading him, and that tight ass  _squeezing_...

He wouldn't last either.

“You’re so... tight,” he said in a husky voice, totally, irremediably intoxicated. “Tony…”

He tried to pace himself; he really did. Tony didn’t help him in the slightest, however, so Steve lasted one single minute before Tony’s milked him towards release. Steve spilled himself shouting Tony’s name a few seconds before the other man covered his cock in cum. Stars danced in front of Steve’s eyes.

“Shall I let the other know you won’t come to the meeting in fifteen minutes?” Jarvis asked nicely.

Tony had wrapped his arms around Steve, who was marveling at how addictive kissing that pale skin could be. He didn’t need coffee when he had an armful of Tony Stark.

“I will remember never to cross you,” he said between his teeth, capturing the moan of a sated lover. _His_ lover.

“I only strive to please.”

Jarvis kept silent after that, satisfied of having, at long last, found his master a companion of worth. He carefully saved all the drawings in an accessible server for observation. Steve Rogers had indeed talent aplenty.  

             


End file.
